The Poet's Admirer
by blushed-at-a-mere-nothing
Summary: Jehan is quite confused when he gets a letter from a secret admirer. I own nothing except my original characters. Rated T for future situations and language and such.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I feel like an ambitious idiot, so I'm going to start yet another fanfic, and not update the other ones for a bit. I'm just an ambitious idiot like that. I promise I'll update all of my stories within the next couple weeks. God, I'm such an idiot. I GET INSPIRED ON TUMBLR A LOT, OK? By the way, I fell a bit in love with Alistair Brammer, so…yeah. The Barricade Boys need to stop. They just do.**

**P.S: I changed my URL name or whatever from EponineJondretteGirl to blushed-at-a-mere-nothing for…reasons. **

Jehan's POV:

'_Now the hungry lion roars,  
And the wolf behowls the moon;  
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,  
All with weary task fordone.  
Now the wasted brands do glow,  
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,  
Puts the wretch that lies in woe  
In remembrance of a shroud.  
Now it is the time of night—'_

"Jehan!" Combeferre whispered curtly to me. I looked up through my curly brown hair that flopped in my face to realize the room was quiet. And staring at ME. Enjolras stood at the corner of the room where we usually give speeches, his arms crossed. Merde…

"I do hope whatever book you're reading will assist you in your speech today, because you're up now." Enjolras' voice was calm, but I figured that trying would give me a bit of credit.

"Of course! Why on Earth would I read a book instead of listen to you, great leader," I said, strolling to the corner. Enjolras took a seat and waited for me to start; a slight smirk was growing on his lips.

I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. "In times like this, Paris and all that inhabit it are under a never-ending night. Now, the lion roars, and the wolf howls. The brave yet fearful people roar and howl at those who claim to be for the abased. But what do those protectors they do? They turn away and do what they wish, consequences aside, helping no one. Those weary ploughmen cannot rest, for they have no security. Soon, we shall find a way to bring the dawn to these poor citizens, and set the screeching supporters of false liberty toward the truth."

I must've sounded like the biggest dunce in all of Europe. I sat down quickly and waited for someone to start laughing.

"Interesting, Prouvaire. Who did you elude to there? Voltaire? Robespierre?" Enjolras inquired. I blushed and made no reply, so he approached me and spoke, "I'm afraid a monologue of Puck's is not revolutionary material, though I'll grant you mercy. That was well-said for coming up with it out of the blue, and I happen to enjoy _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Now pay attention." He knocked the book against my head softly and sat again. Not the first time he has scolded me during a meeting for reading or day dreaming, but I'm pretty quick to make material up. When the meeting was done, I left the café brusquely to avoid further embarrassment.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I muttered to myself as I strolled past the marketplace. I stopped, as I always did, at the florist to see if there was anything of interest. I pushed open the door and was surrounded by the scent of the plants. I grinned and looked around the little shop. Hundreds of vibrant colors met my eyes, and I completely forgot my blunder at the café. I don't know why I enjoyed walking about a flower shop, but I understood why women did it. It's very calming.

"Jean Prouvaire! I knew you'd come today!" The shopkeeper, Henriette called. She bustled over, and I bowed. "Oh come now, no need to do that. We're old friends now."

"Whatever you say, Henriette," I replied with a smirk.

"You have a letter." She pressed a small envelope into my hand.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "From whom?" She just laughed and shook her head.

"She made me promise not to tell. Think of it as a mystery. Go find her."

"Wait, HER?" Henriette ignored me and went off to help a customer. I left the florist more confused than when I entered.

Walking quickly, I returned to the café faster than I thought I could. I sat at one of the several tables upstairs, and with a shaking hand, I opened the letter.

_Never before, have I felt like this,_

_Struck by familiar Lightning._

_Your eyes are like an ocean_

_They keep my smile heightening._

_Though you may never meet me,_

_I hope you'll get to know,_

_That you seem very lovely,_

_Like a little doe._

_Your eyes are wide and trusting,_

_Your laughter gives me a chill._

_I hope one day to speak to you,_

_For it would be a thrill._

_Sincerely,_

_A Secret Admirer_

_P.S: Your presence in the flower shop makes it all the more cheery._

_P.P.S: I tried my hand in poetry. Hope you like it._

I stared at the note in surprise. I had a…Secret Admirer?

"Jehan! What're you doing in here? Meeting's over." I heard Enjolras' voice from the back of the café. I could feel that my face was very red, but I looked up at him anyway. He was standing at one of the tables with several books open. He raised an eyebrow and spoke again. "Are you ok?"

I cleared my throat and replied. "I got a letter at the flower shop."

Enjolras smirked and strolled to my table. "Let's hear it!"

"This is incredibly out of character for you, but alright." I read the poem off to him, and his smirk grew a bit larger with each line.

"She seems interesting. Do you know who she is?" I shook my head, and he continued. "Looks like you've got searching to do." He returned to his spot, and I ran a hand through my hair. How in God's name would I find a random poetic girl in the flower shop? She could be anyone!

Thinking about the cliché, I realized that this would be a lot harder than I thought. Tons of people go in and out of the shop every day. I just needed to pick one of them out. This would be interesting. I've always been the romantic type, but when it comes to talking to women? I was one horribly awkward man. I'm only twenty-two, and the University that most of the Amis and I attend doesn't have a speech class. It's mostly Law, Sciences, and History. The only eloquence I have is written on paper. I trip up on my words, I mumble, I stutter. Speaking to the fairer sex? Forget about it.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Monsieur's, but the café is closing. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave." The owner of the café broke my train of thought. I helped Enjolras to gather his things and offered to help him home.

"Jehan?" When we were headed in the direction of his apartment, he broke the silence. "How are you going to find her?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Well I hope you find her. It'll do you good to get a woman in your life." At this, I burst out laughing. "What?! What's so funny?!" Enjolras asked, exasperated.

"You blew up on Pontmercy yesterday about his lark, Cosette. Now you're encouraging me to fall in love? You contradict yourself, great leader."

He rolled his eyes. "Well Marius is a love-struck fool. He does nothing but fawn over the girl to the point where I wouldn't feel bad if I put his head through one of the tables! But you, Jean Prouvaire, are smart. You can be obsessed with love and fully attentive. Except for today, of course." I blushed at the mention of my mistake, and he continued. "You need a girl, so you can make sense of your works. You always said that your poems never made any sense to you, especially the ones concerning love. Maybe you can figure it out. Here we are."

He stopped at his apartment, and I set his supplies inside. I left Enjolras with an air of almost confidence. Maybe I SHOULD search for her. Maybe my poems would make sense. Maybe. Minutes later, I came to my home. My reverie made me lose track of the time and the speed at which I was walking, so when I checked the clock, it didn't surprise me that it read midnight. Setting the letter on my bedside table and choosing not to change out of my day clothes, I fell asleep quickly. Maybe all of the mystery went to my head.

_Who will she be? _


	2. Chapter 2

**Jehan's POV**

Today is the day I will find her, I thought as I strolled to the café. I felt quite confident.

"Hello, dear Jehan! How is your mystery?" Combeferre and Lesgles asked

"So the secret has spread. It has barely begun," I replied with a smirk. Once I sat down, the meeting began like always.

Speeches and rhetorical questions about liberty and the people of the republic rang throughout the little building, but I hardly heard any of it.

What am I to do? I suppose this is one of the times where being a bit of a romantic doesn't help. What does she look like? Or sound like? I know her writing style; I just need to find her. This is making me crazy.

"JEHAN!"

"W-What?" I snapped out of my thoughts when Enjolras yelled at me. He was standing directly in front of me; his face about five inches from mine.

"We have asked you ONE question. ONE. Do you know how long ago we did so? An HOUR. We have been waiting for a response for an HOUR. Not in silence; I figured you would reply eventually. But you STILL HAVEN'T. NOW, I'd like to ask again: How old are you?" His fingers were twitching, and I realized how strung up he was.

"Um...why is that pertinent?" I replied, a little confused.

He took a deep breath in an attempt to keep his composure, and said, "I need to know for a specialized record."

"22"

"Thanks a lot!" He shouted sarcastically, and he stomped back to his table, which was covered with books, papers, and random supplies. He scribbled a few things in a notebook, and Courfeyrac awkwardly continued his side of a debate.

* * *

"Enjolras..." I said quietly, not really wanting to bother him, "are you ok?" The meeting was now over, and everyone had already left. I was about to go on my girl expedition, but I felt too bad for Enjolras to just leave him alone.

He looked up slowly. "Am I ok? Yes, I'd like to think so. In reality? Probably not."

"...that made no sense. Let's try again. How are you feeling at this moment in time?" I pulled a chair up to his table with a smile.

He just rolled his eyes. "Like I want to punch out a wall."

"Ok...and why do you think you're feeling like this?"

He smirked. "Are you my therapist?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Because I have to plan a revolution with daydreamers, womanizers, and an alcoholic."

I couldn't stop my laugh. "Am I, the daydreaming King, causing you that much stress?"

"Yes!" He negated this with a smile.

"Don't let us deter you. Just do what you do best- speak and draw people in."

"Well…have you any advice?"

"Learn how to speak like no one is listening. I don't mean for you to yell, I just mean that you should speak without a boundary." I stood to leave, but before I could go downstairs, he stopped me.

"Thank you, Jehan. I'm happy that you are my therapist."

I just smiled and left.

* * *

"What do you mean? Why can't you at least tell me what she looks like?!"

Henriette was being impossible. She wouldn't tell me anything!

"That would take the fun out of searching, Prouvaire," she stated. I followed her around the near-empty shop as she arranged flowers.

"B-But..."

"But nothing! You will find her by yourself."

I groaned and flopped onto a bench like a whiney child.

"You are smart; you can find her. Perhaps you go around and ask who has written that specific poem?" She stalked over to where I was sitting with a handful of lilies.

"Maybe...or, I could write a poem in response!"

"Depending on whether or not I would give the girl said poem." She gave a haughty chuckle and I rolled my eyes.

"Why can't you just tell me who she is?"

"Like I said; it would ruin the fun."

"You, my friend, are one of the most impossible women that I have ever met!"

She just shrugged. Shaking my head, I left the flower shop. On my stroll around town, I found myself staring intently at each female that passed; like searching her face would reveal who wrote the note.

Having the last straw, I walked up to the first woman coming in the opposite direction and asked her, "Have you written this?" I handed the poem to her, she read it, and shook her head. She continued on her way, and I sighed. "Thanks..." I went to the park.

That was a lot easier than I expected. Why can't my head make this simple!?

For the rest of the day, I sat on a park bench and asked each woman that passed. I never got her.

"Have you written this?"

"Are you the woman from the flower shop?"

"Do you recognize me?"

I had even resorted to asking them to identify me. "Who am I?"

With those, I just got odd stares. Not that it mattered; I figured I wasn't getting anywhere anytime soon.

At around eleven, I figured it was time to leave, but I was stopped.

"M'sieur, I could help ya find your lass!" A gamine that looked almost a year younger than I approached me.

She was quite pretty for living on the streets, I noted. Thank God she had tolerable grammar as well! But I couldn't let her distract me from the matter at hand.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're searchin' for the girl that wrote that note, right? Let me help ya."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care? Haven't you other matters to worry about?"

"Why do YOU care what I do with my time? I wanna help. You need it."

I couldn't help myself; I laughed. She started to play with her fingerless gloves nonchalantly. But I could see the smirk on her face.

"You are truly adamant about helping me."

"Well, I'm not so sure what adamant means, but if it connects to wanting to do something really badly, then yes."

"Again, why?"

She replied like it was obvious: "Cuz you're interestin'. I like to associate m'self with interestin' people."

I stared at her for a moment and pondered it. Maybe I didn't have to do this all by myself.

"Fine. But on one condition."

"I dunno what I could poss'bly pay ya for, but go ahead."

"I want to pay you for your help."

She shook her head. "I suppose you'll be findin' someone else then. I don't wanna be paid."

"Ok, ok. Then nevermind the condition. Will you help me for free?"

"Now yer talkin'! Let's meet here tomorrow. Just whenever, I'm almost always around." She turned to leave, but I grabbed her shoulder and she stopped.

"Your name, mademoiselle?"

She shrugged. "Don't have one."

I laughed yet again. "You don't have a name? That's ridiculous!"

"Well, when you're an orphan, you aren't given one!" She shrugged my hand off her shoulder and tried to leave again.

"Fine, then. Our first mission tomorrow will be to find your name."

I could swear she shook her head as she slipped into the darkness of the city. The streetlamp I was under didn't help to let me spot her.

* * *

Back at my apartment, I paced wildly across the sitting room. Why was something as miniscule as a note making me this crazy? Perhaps I hate mystery? Perhaps I hate Henriette for keeping this secret? Perhaps it all is a dream!

And what of the gamine? She was rather odd for wanting to help me so badly. And she doesn't have a name, so we should find one for her. But why did all of this matter?

I had to focus on the revolution, and I'm sure Enjolras doesn't appreciate my search. I could be focusing on something a little more important.

Sitting down on my bed, I tried to slow my swirling mind. I'm no detective; I have too many obligations. But the gamine is also something I wish to help. I want to help EVERYTHING! And the mystery woman? I can't just let her stay a mystery. The revolution is quickly approaching, and I could die. Why be alone in my time before death?

Deciding that I would juggle everything that was expected of me in accordance with my personal endeavors, I fell asleep. Perhaps tomorrow would be a bit more enlightening.


	3. Chapter 3

**?'s POV**

I brushed the dirty blonde bangs out of my eyes as I sat up in my straw bed. Groaning at my achy muscles, I forced myself to stand.

"'Nother day, 'nother heartache," I muttered to myself as I straightened my pants and my chemise. Lucky for me, I found thick clothes. Some of the girls I hang around look like they wear Bible paper.

I could be like them. I could be earning money by selling myself and having a semblance of a life instead of helping schoolboys find their women. I couldn't help it; I laughed at Jehan after I left. He was never gonna find this girl. Least I could do was help out for a few months. I'll be there to cheer him up.

Mr. Jehan confused me. He was undoubtedly attractive and could have his pick of any girl. Why did he need this poetic dame?

I tied my boots haphazardly and left the Women's House, passing the whores that were getting ready for their day of work, or were already luring in a customer.

"Four in the mornin', Rosie? Doin' well!" I called over my shoulder to one of those that captured their prey.

"Hell yeah, silly Bea. I'm the luckiest lady in all of Paris!" She replied. And with a giggle, she disappeared into her room with her hungry gentleman.

Silly Bea? More like Silly Rosie. She was my best girl friend, and once she found I had nothing, she found a spot and an alias, at the least. Rosie was the giving type, and that's why I became friends with her. I was her charity case. But Bea was a nickname. I couldn't take it as a name now. Jehan was going to give me a name.

Exiting the house, I took a deep breath and smiled. Sure, my life was miserable, but I could at least be happy about it. I could read and write and breathe and walk; that's all that really matters. Gotta be grateful for what we've got, haven't we? Luckily, the streets were empty because of the time, so I could just relax.

"Hey Missy!" One of the street boys called to me with a grin. He was my age, thin, messy, and always smiling. We who spoke to him called him Eric, and those who didn't speak to him called him Just Another Rat.

He always called me Missy. When I thought back to the way we met, it makes sense; I was caught pick pocketing and the man called me missy. Before I was hauled to the police, Eric stopped the man, gave him his money back, and scolded me like I was his baby sister. Once the bourgeoisie left, he started to laugh. 'Good one, Missy!' He shouted at the time, still laughing. He assumed it was my name!

"Hallo, Eric!" I called back. "Off on another adventure with the guys today?"

He shook his head. "Naw, just hangin' 'round. How are the girls?" He fell into step and followed me in the direction of the central park.

I giggled. "Goin' strong like always."

"Sure is unfortunate." At this, I nodded sadly. Him and I knew many a lass that lost their dignity, virginity, love, and later, life because they were stuck bein' poor. Poverty is a slope, it only goes downhill. Climbin' back up is near impossible. But at least I have Rosie and Eric and Jehan.

Why was I even including him? He was just a man I was planning on "helping".

"You alrigh'? You're off in Queen Mab's world again," I heard Eric say. I shook my head and sighed. He put his arm around my shoulder and I leaned into him, grateful that he understood. He was there when I told him about Jehan and how I was going to help him.

"I'm meetin' Jehan up at the park. Come with me?" I looked up at him hopefully. He put on his usual grin and agreed. He put down his arm, and I continued to be amazed with him. "How are you not shiverin' in your shoes? Your clothes are so small!"

He rolled his eyes. "You're barely wearin' a shirt at all, yet you comment on my clothes? Silly girl."

I crossed my arms, somewhat wishing he'd put his arm around me again. That boy radiated warmth. Unfortunately, he didn't notice I was freezing and we sat at the park bench to wait.

An hour passed and a few couples came to the park, looking at the flowers and chattering in whispers; like they'd wake someone up if they spoke in normal tones. Eric and I just sat and waited.

"Girl! You're here!" Jehan, being awkward as ever, broke the hush as he raced toward the bench. His clothes looked like they were simply thrown on in pitch black, but he still had that air of grace he always carried with him. He was an awkward swan. It was positively...cute.

"Hallo, Mr. Jehan. How'd ya sleep?" I stood up to meet him and he wrapped me in a hug. I couldn't help my blush.

"Not very well; I was too busy thinking and writing."

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" I asked with raised eyebrows.

"Your name! We must come up with one you like."

Eric piped up. "Her name's Missy."

I turned back to him and shook my head. "It's not. I ain't got a name. That man just called me Missy 'cuz I'm a girl that caused trouble. He was just yellin'."

Eric's eyes widened in surprise. "I guess Missy's her nickname then? That's news t'me! I've been callin' you that for ten years."

I nodded and returned my gaze to a very confused Jehan.

"Who is that?" He inquired, nodding toward the gamin.

"A close friend o'mine. Jehan, meet Eric." The boy in question stood and shook hands with the poet.

"Well...now that everything is in order, we must find your name." He sat on the bench where I was originally and opened his notebook. He pulled a pencil out of his jacket pocket and poised it over the blank paper. "What names do you like?"

I laughed. "Quite the blanket statement you got here."

Eric shot off a couple ideas. "Norah? Isabel? Charlotte?"

Rolling my eyes, I sat on the ground without really caring how dirty it was, and accepted the fact I really wasn't getting out of this.

"Nah, too stuffy. How bout...Missy? I 'appen to like that nickname. Suits me just fine, I s'ppose."

Jehan sighed. "You could have any name in the world. And you just want to keep that one? Names have meaning."

"Well, what does Missy mean?" I asked rudely.

"It means you are a troublemaker. You use a name that is defiant. Anyone can call a girl 'missy' when she is in trouble. Why not something beautiful? You're pretty, so why not use a name to express it?" He blushed immensely, and my eyes got huge.

I simply inquired, "Why do you care?"

He shrugged. I turned to look at Eric, whose arms were crossed and he was looking away.

"I want Missy," I stated firmly. Jehan just smiled and said:

"I knew it."

I stood up and brushed off my pants then spoke, "Now we gotta look for yer lass. Any ideas?"

He handed me the letter. "I wrote myself a copy of the letter. I was thinking you could walk around and ask. I was going to do the same at the flower shop. Maybe you could work here, and then at noon, we could meet up and talk, then get lunch?"

I nodded, took the paper, and he left. Groaning, I flopped on the bench, kicked my legs onto the seat and laid my head on Eric's leg.

"This is a waste. Ain't no way he's gonna find her. Even if he does, he won't want her."

Eric sighed and tugged lightly on the bangs that were flopping into my eyes. He always does it when I'm distressed or upset; it calms me down for some reason. "You gotta tell him sometime. If he doesn't want her, he doesn't deserve her."

"You're the bestest friend I could ever get. Thanks, buddy."

He just nodded and wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Have I upset ya?" I sat up and stared at him quizzically.

"Naw. Let's just pretend to look for her."

"Why pretend? Let's just ditch and meet with 'im at noon, like he says?"

Eric put on his grin again, stood, and held his hand out. "Let's ditch, then!"

On our walk around the town, I thought aloud, "I'm such a bad helper. I'm supposed to help him."

"If ya feel so bad, tell him the truth 'bout the girl!" He could go from being happy to being mean in a snap.

"Whatcher deal?! You've been buggy all day!" I stopped and crossed my arms. He turned back and faced me, his face twisted angrily.

"All you talk of is that poet. You never talk t'me anymore!"

I tugged him by his shirt to the nearest alley, then replied, "I happen to like him! Why can't ya just be happy for me? I got a guy I took likin' to, and you won't stand for it! That's bloody nonsense."

He leaned back against the wall of the alleyway and looked away. "This li'l secret of yours is gonna get out to him. What'll he think?"

"That...he'll think that...I'm awful for keepin' it."

I couldn't deny it; once Jehan finds out, he'll never speak to me again. Eric was right. I just wish I could get them both to understand. Any way you slice it, I'll never make anyone happy. I don't deserve Jehan or my best friend.

"Missy, listen t'me. You can't keep this up forever. And I wanna help you. But..." He didn't complete his sentence, he just ran a hand through his wild brown hair and sighed.

"Naw, I get it. You don't want me to maybe fall in love with an upstandin' gentleman that can take care of me, you want someone t'be miserable and poor with you, goin' on adventures and pickpocketin'. I don't want this life and I don't want you!"

My eyes widened at the weight of my words. I didn't want my best friend of ten years. I wanted to give him and Rosie up for a man that may never love me.

"Missy...you don't want me? I thought...I thought we were frien's. We were here to help each other, 'member?" Shaking his head, he stormed off, a scowl etched on his face.

Dammit, Missy! I could write a book on how to lose your best friend in five minutes! I felt tears sting in my eyes and I sat against the wall. Eric was always there for me, and I threw him out like an old newspaper. All this drama caused because I just love Jehan. I love him, and I hurt everyone around me. I love Eric and I push him away. I'm stupid.

I refused to let my tears fall, and I ran back to the park. I walked around, asking women if they recognized the poem, they said no like I expected, and when the sun was high, I went to the flower shop. I leaned against the brick side of the building and kept my head down.

"Missy! There you are. Any luck?" Jehan strolled out of the flower shop and found me.

I shook my head. Thank god my bangs somewhat hid my brimming tears.

"Ready for some lunch?" Shrugging, I followed him to a café.

"Table for two, please." The Maitre d frowned as he looked upon me.

"Is it for you and...her?" He pointed to me, and Jehan nodded. "Unfortunately, it is against our policy to serve...street rats. You must take your charity elsewhere or eat alone."

Not caring to hear Jehan's reply, I turned on my heel and left. The tears I held in my eyes spilled over, and I continued to walk away. I was used to being turned away; it wasn't that matter that bothered me. The fact that it proved how opposite Jehan and I was bothered me. He was rich, I was nothing. He was healthy, my pale and swallow skin proved otherwise.

"Missy! Missy, wait!" I heard Jehan call behind me, and I broke into a run. I raced all the way to the Seine, and stopped on the bridge. I sat on the edge and watched the water as I caught my breath.

I couldn't believe how childish I was acting. Normal people aren't like this! They don't hurt their best friends and they don't run from café's and they don't cry over something like love.

Why did I choose Jehan over anyone? He was wealthy. I should be with a street kid.

On top of my childishness, the secret about the admirer was wearing down on me. I couldn't bear it much longer, and if Jehan comes, I shall-

"Missy! You gave me a scare!" Jehan had caught up. "Won't you come back? We can have lunch at my apartment." He put his hand on my shoulder and I shrugged it off.

"You don't understand. Jehan, I'm not gonna find yer lass. It's not possible."

He raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I know who wrote the damn thing!"

* * *

**Ooh, cliffy. Lol I hope you liked it!**


End file.
